


Heavy Metal Heart

by gl0rificus



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Lots of drinking, M/M, also there is like friend jealousy?, and it turned out kind of emo, basically i just have a lot of feelings about louis tomlinson, but here we are, fratboy liam, grind dancing bc this is my fic, harry is himself, niall and zayn are also skaters, not sure if handjobs are teen and up so i just left it unrated, pot smoking, skaterboy louis, they are all scumbags really, which i wasn't expecting, zayn gets kind of jelly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 04:52:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2495138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gl0rificus/pseuds/gl0rificus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Louis is taken by how earnest and embarrassed this Liam is. The initial shock of having crashed into Liam is gone by now, and in its place Louis feels flattered and a little bit powerful. A lot powerful. He can tell he has some effect on Liam, would like to think he is intimidating but secretly hopes that it may be something more, and he puts a hand on his hip and tilts his head to the side playfully. “I know who you are,” he blurts out. “You’re the boy who keeps staring at me in the alley.”<i></i></i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Or, Louis is a ratty skater boy and Liam is the shy frat boy who can't stop looking at him. Louis believes they could have nothing in common, until he finds out they do.</i>
  </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heavy Metal Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Basically this whole thing was born from my love for ratty, [scumbag king](http://31.media.tumblr.com/d178d72b6c44386932e337882eb303f7/tumblr_nbi0ckfnLR1rwftm7o2_500.gif) Louis Tomlinson from the WWA tour. I love his dynamic with Liam ([hellooo crushville](http://38.media.tumblr.com/2884ec90e4cff696b384530c8c6d153c/tumblr_na6a0nOaRx1qapmdgo1_500.gif)), and I feel like they both share a deep, whole body need for love and validation. Like most of us, probably.
> 
> Title is from [Heavy Metal Heart](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9yULXlAjPGs/) by Sky Ferriera.
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://gl0rificus.tumblr.com/), come say hello. 
> 
> None of this is true, obviously. A girl can dream.

Louis rolls the cigarette between his thumb and index finger and stares at the grey ash accumulating at the end. The heat from the hidden ember inside warms his finger tips and he considers, briefly, what all this smoking is doing to his lungs. He can hear his mother’s voice in the back of his mind, scolding his disgusting habit, and he slowly brings the dying cigarette up to his mouth and takes a final, deep drag. It burns his lips and he thinks fuck it, fuck this, and in an utterly practiced and casual manner, drops the butt onto the street and crushes it under the toe of his shoe.

“Fuck, what time is it?” a voice asks behind him. Louis reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone, pressing the ‘on’ button to check the time. Battery is nearly dead. Fucking perfect.

“10 am, man” he responds, turning around to lean his shoulder on the cool brick wall of the lecture building and look at Zayn, who sits with his feet on the ground and his knees spread wide, back against the brick wall. Zayn is just finishing his cigarette, the third one he’s smoked since they decided to get up and leave during the middle of lecture for the solitude of the alley, and he looks a little strung out. Niall, on the other hand, looks perfectly content, standing on his skateboard and drawing a series of dicks on the wall with a sharpie. Typical.

Louis pushes his baseball cap up off his forehead and surveys his friends in quiet study. Niall is definitely the coolest of the three, in terms of being the only one with actual skateboarding skills and a car. He can also play the guitar, though his sense of style could be improved. While Niall wears the same pair of cut-off jeans every day and the kind of t-shirts you buy in a multi-pack, Zayn and Louis put a little more thought into their wardrobe. Zayn usually ops for all black and mixed textures, the only splash of color being the red bandana tied around his neck and the red anarchy patch he super glued to his backpack. Louis’ go-to involves ripped skinny jeans rolled at the ankle, black vans, and some variation on a screen print shirt. Today he is wearing one of his favorites, a white shirt with cut-off sleeves and a skull and crossbones image across the front. He runs a hand over his tattoo-covered arm and admires the random squiggles mixed with solid artwork, feeling suddenly cool. Zayn has the most tattoos of them all, and he’s a better skater than Louis, and he’s probably Louis’ best friend. At least, Louis thinks he might be, but it’s not like they really talk about that kind of stuff – most of their conversations revolve around skateboarding, smoking weed, and hating school.

It’s really important to Louis, having friends. When he first started college three years ago, he was such a fucking loser. He used to wear suspenders and colored khaki pants and had perfectly quaffed hair, and just thinking about it makes him cringe. That look was cool in high school, at least he thought it was cool, but once he arrived on campus he realized that the whole musical theater kid thing was restricted to the realm of adolescence. In college, there were no “musical theater kids” – there were “music majors” and “art majors”, and they all wore scarves and looked down on Rodgers and Hammerstein. Besides, Louis was never that good of a singer, anyway. And he knew right away that he wasn’t manly enough to be accepted by the fraternity crowd, or at least they made that very clear to him when some frat guy in his first year English class snapped his suspenders and called him a fucking fairy and everyone laughed. And he wasn’t smart, at least not in _that_ way, to get good grades and excel in school like the nerds. Basically it was clear to Louis that he was an outsider, that he didn’t fit in, that he didn’t belong. He was actually pretty close to dropping out of school, moving back home with his mom and sisters, when he was pared with Zayn for an icebreaker exercise during the third week of freshman seminar. “Nice suspenders,” that was the first thing Zayn had said to him. Louis had shot him a death look and retorted “nice face,” and Zayn had smiled and laughed, had actually laughed at Louis’ stupid comeback, and then he punched Louis in the arm. Lightly. To Louis, it had felt like a hug.

“I fucking hate school,” Zayn spits, plucking the line straight from Louis’ train of thought. “Like, why are we even here? Who can learn anything at 8 am?”

Louis turns to lean his back up against the wall and kicks his foot up behind him to steady himself. “Not sure, but I’m pretty sure that line will get you an “A” in philosophy class.” Louis drops his voice and slurs his words together in his best Zayn impression. “ _Like, why are we even here_?” He teases. “Deep shit, man.”

Zayn flicks his dying cigarette at Louis who laughs, moving from the wall slightly in an effort to dodge the flying butt. Zayn grumbles for him to fuck off, but Louis can see that his eyes are twinkling and his cheeks are pinched as he tries to keep a straight face. _Yeah_ , Louis thinks, _Zayn is probably my best friend_. He wishes he could tell him that.

Louis’ laughter starts up again and he jumps as Niall, clearly bored by his dick masterpiece, kicks his skateboard out toward Louis is an effort to trip him, or something like that. This is Louis’ favorite thing, being the center of attention, and he purses his lips and shakes his head at Niall as the skateboard rolls past him and down the alley. Niall flips him the bird while Louis grins with delight.

“Oof,” a voice calls out behind them. Louis turns his head away from his friends and sees a figure holding his ankle where the skateboard must have struck him, hopping on the other foot and trying not to drop the backpack that hangs precariously over one shoulder. Louis has seen the boy before, keeps seeing that boy, in fact – that’s the frat guy who always interrupts their morning chain smoking session in the alley. He assumes that the boy uses the alley as a short cut to get to the quad, and from the quickness of his pace, he usually seems to be in a hurry or running late. And Louis always catches the boy staring at them, staring at _him,_ before he manages to look away.

Louis pushes off from the wall and strolls over to the boy, who has recovered his balance and is awkwardly bending over to gather up the skateboard. “Sorry, _bro_ ,” he says as he reaches down for the skateboard, “you got caught in the crossfire.” He means for the “bro” to be a bit of a dig, and emphasizes the word to make his intention clear.  Fuck frat guys. Louis grabs a hold of the skateboard and notices the boy’s hands on the other end. They are big and soft, with bitten down nails and little moons in the cuticles. They look warm.

“My bad, dude,” the boy responds. Louis straightens up quickly, as does the boy, and takes the skateboard into both hands. He looks up to meet the boy’s eyes and feels his resistance softening when he sees how big, brown, and embarrassed they look. The boy is wearing a backwards snapback that’s resting high on his head, revealing a patch of shorn, brown hair underneath. Louis darts his eyes and takes the rest of him in quickly - large black baseball jersey with the top few buttons undone to reveal a white t-shirt underneath, straight leg black jeans, red high tops. Yep, total fraternity bro. Louis could tell as much the first time he saw the boy, it was obvious from his overlarge sweatshirt with Greek lettering. But they’ve never been this close before – close enough for Louis to see the soft facial hair dusting his jaw, the worried look in his thick eyebrows, the light brown birthmark just above the dip in his neck. Close enough to learn that he smells like old spice and fabric softener. Louis feels the heat rise in his cheeks and steps back to put a comfortable distance between them.

If Louis feels red, he hopes he doesn’t look as bad as the other boy, who is currently blushing so hard he looks like he might burst into flame. The boy sort of stands there, staring mostly at his shoes but glancing up at Louis every once and a while, and Louis feels a warmth spread through him at the thought that maybe he is the reason the boy is so flustered. Not the crash with the skateboard and the subsequent ankle/skateboard/backpack dance, but the sheer proximity of Louis Tomlinson.

Louis suddenly feels incredibly self-conscious, can feel Zayn and Niall’s eyes on his back, and he dismisses the boy with a wave. “No problem, whatever,” he responds, and turns around to walk back to his friends. He is really good at this, acting cool, acting like he is above everything, and he is definitely above getting worked up over some frat bro with puppy dog eyes and an oversized hat. He sets the skateboard on the ground and kicks it back at Niall, who catches it easily under his foot.

“Fucking frat guys, right?” Niall smirks. He knows Louis hates frat guys, has hated them ever since that one asshole made fun of him freshman year. In fact, the three of them pretty much only hang out with each other. Niall and Zayn have been friends since high school, and Zayn brought Louis into the fold, well… Louis’ not quite sure why Zayn and Niall wanted to hang out with him. He had felt so desperate to find a place to belong, so untethered in this stupid, middle of nowhere college town. Sometimes he thinks that Zayn and Niall want him around because he is a source of entertainment, always making them laugh, always able to start a conversation, always quick to hurl an insult at anyone who threatens them or to silence people with razor sharp glares. Other times he thinks that’s all in his head, and allows himself to relax into the thought that he doesn’t have to prove himself to Niall and Zayn anymore.

Louis throws a quick look over his shoulder to catch a final glimpse of the boy before he disappears into the open quad at the end of the alley. “Yeah, fucking frat guys.”

\-------------------------------

It’s almost midnight and Louis is floating in the space between buzzed and drunk.

He stumbles forward along the sidewalk, can feel the crisp night air on his hot face, and thinks that this may be the best night of his life. He loves this feeling – being drunk, being young, feeling like he doesn’t give a fuck about what anybody thinks. He looks down at his feet, carefully placing one in front of the other as he walks along the curb, and he feels so graceful, so alive, so free. He throws back his head and lets out a cry into the night sky, which is quickly echoed by Niall and Zayn. Niall places a hand on his shoulder and Louis leans into him before tearing away in feign disgust. “Niall, you are going to fuck me up, I’m trying to walk a tightrope here,” Louis exclaims. He resumes his careful walk along the curb, holding his skateboard out in front of him for balance, and pretends to ignore Niall, who laughs and skates past him down the sidewalk.

“Really? I thought you were trying to pretend like you could actually grind your board on the curb!” Niall hollers back. Louis knows he is a shit skateboarder, and the only people who are allowed to poke fun at him about it are Zayn and Niall.

“I’m pretty good at grinding on your Mom!” he yells back into the night. He can hear Niall’s laughter up ahead and feels satisfied. Zayn rolls up behind him and bumps into Louis playfully, knocking him off the curb. He takes a swig of a 40, wipes his hand across his mouth and offers the bottle out to Louis. As Louis reaches for it, Zayn snatches his hand back and pushes off on his skateboard, his laughter echoing into the darkness as he tears off after Niall.

“You assholes! I’ll throw you in the trash can where you belong!” Louis drops his skateboard onto the sidewalk and hops onto it, setting off after his friends. A break in the sidewalk causes his board to catch and he goes flying, knees and palms and elbows skidding across the cement. He used to be so afraid of falling, it actually kept him from learning any tricks on his skateboard for a long time. He always admired how Niall could just fucking go for it, throw his all into a move and land it perfectly, and pick himself up when he fell.

“How do you do it?” He had asked Niall one day when he and Zayn here trying to teach Louis how to drop into the bowl. “Like, what if I fall?”

Niall had kicked his board up into his hand, spun it around a few times, and shrugged his shoulders.

“Then you fall. And you get back up.” He had looked down at the large scar that runs the length of his knee and then met Louis’ eyes, grinning. “And if you’re fucking hurt, you wait a while and then you try it again.”

Louis had dropped into the bowl and ate shit, like really ate shit, scrapped up his chin and dislocated his finger and it was awful. But he tried it again the next day, and the next, and he told himself that he didn’t give a fuck that he had a scabbed chin and a bandaged finger, and within a week he was swerving around the skate park with Zayn and Niall. Within two weeks, he could actually land an ollie. He had never felt so accomplished in all his life.

Now it doesn’t even hurt when he falls, he’s so used to it. It especially doesn’t hurt when he’s drunk. So Louis picks himself back up and decides the street is the best place for skating. He runs and jumps off the curb, landing on his board as he takes off after his friends. He feels the cool night air envelope him, sees the street lights zoom overheard, closes his eyes and extends his arms out on either side.

And promptly crashes into something and falls of his board again.

“Fuck, man” a familiar voice groans. Louis opens his eyes to find that his limbs are tangled up with a person, a person who kind of broke his fall, and he does his best to untangle himself and scoot away.

“Sorry, dude,” he offers, standing up to brush himself off and extending his hand to help the person up. Only then does he look, like actually look, and realize that the unfortunate person who broke his fall is the same frat boy from the alley. He’s still lying on ground, rubbing a hand over his shorn head and squinting his eyes in pain.  Louis reaches over to retrieve the boy’s hat and crouches down to hand it to him.

“Jesus, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you, I just – “ he sputters, placing a hand on the boys shoulder and trying to coax him up. “Fuck man, are you OK?”

“Yeah, I mean, I think so,” the boy replies, coming up onto his elbows and finally settling in a seated position on the asphalt. He accepts the hat from Louis’ hand and places it back on his head. “You came up so fast, I didn’t see you.”

Louis catches himself rubbing circles in the boy’s back and quickly draws his hand away. “Dude, that was totally my fault, I’m an asshole. I was trying to catch up to my friends and I wasn’t looking where I was going and I’m a total asshole.” Louis shakes his head and waits for a response.

But the boy seems completely unconcerned with himself and is looking down at Louis’ knee. “You’re bleeding,” he whispers, lightly touching the frayed opening in Louis’ jeans where blood is beginning to drip down his knee. He looks concerned but also a little shocked, like he is surprised that Louis could actually bleed. Louis wonders why he would care. No one else seems to care. Better not to dwell on it.

“Yeah, comes with the territory,” he laughs softly, pointing to his skateboard that has landed across the street. “I’m not very good, and I probably would have crashed anyway, so you, like, breaking my fall was actually doing me a favor.” He winces at how stupid he sounds. And why is he telling this guy that he is not good at skateboarding? He decides he’s had enough of vulnerability and grabs the boy roughly by the arm, pulling him to his feet. “My name’s Louis, by the way. Figured I should probably introduce myself in case you want to press charges, easier for insurance purposes, etc.” _Weak, Tomlinson_ , he thinks.

“I’m Liam.” The boy responds, rubbing the palms of his hands on his pants and then extending his arm for a hand shake. Louis obliges and it seems rather formal and stupid, but when he feels how Liam’s warm hand envelopes his own, realizes how cold his hand was before Liam held it, the act feels rather intimate. Liam blushes under Louis’ gaze and drops his hand quickly, looking down to his red high tops and scuffing one lightly across the pavement. “Seems we keep bumping into each other,” he starts. “Er, I mean your skateboard. Keeps bumping into me. You know.”

Louis is taken by how earnest and embarrassed this Liam is. The initial shock of having crashed into Liam is gone by now, and in its place Louis feels flattered and a little bit powerful. A lot powerful. He can tell he has some effect on Liam, would like to think he is intimidating but secretly hopes that it may be something more, and he puts a hand on his hip and tilts his head to the side playfully. “I know who you are,” he blurts out. “You’re the boy who keeps staring at me in the alley.”

Louis experiences a fleeting moment of regret, thinking that maybe he has said too much, but his confidence returns once he notices that Liam is blushing even deeper. There is a long pause as Louis waits for Liam to say something back and enjoys the sight of him shifting uncomfortably in his high tops.

“I’m not staring, I’m just, like, wondering if you guys ever go to class or anything,” Liam finally responds. He looks up at Louis with questioning eyes. Everything about Liam reads _is this OK? Am I doing this right?_ And Louis feels a pang of recognition. He understands that desperate need for approval, and his eyes begin to sting with the threat of tears. Shit, he is drunk.

Louis shakes his head and laughs it off, like he does everything. “Sure, we go to class, the question is whether we stay or not.” He lifts his foot and gives Liam a playful kick in the shin. “Creep,” he adds, throwing in a wink for good measure.

Liam grins widely and they stand like that for a moment, Louis with his hand on his hip and his weight shifted onto one leg, Liam with his hands buried deep in the pockets of his black jeans. Suddenly Louis remembers himself, remembers that he is drunk and on a mission and he has friends who are probably wondering where he’s fucked off too. He feels galvanized by alcohol and the obvious, tender attention Liam is giving him, and thinks _fuck it, there’s a first time for everything_. He spins to Liam’s side and casually throws an arm over his shoulder, smiling wide. “Come on,” he coaxes, “enough about school. It’s fucking Friday night, and you look like you could use a drink. You’re coming with me to a house party.” He looks up at Liam through thick eyelashes, and knows that whatever he’s doing is working because Liam is beaming.

Louis doesn’t even wait for Liam to answer, is dragging him toward his skateboard and then down the street, and Liam tucks himself into the smaller boy’s side as they venture forth in search of friends and booze.

\-----------------------------------------

“Shit, Tommo, where did you fuck off to?” Niall shouts at them as Liam and Louis round the street corner. Zayn and Niall are sitting on their skateboards in front of a three story house that looks all but abandoned except for the booming music and loud voices coming from inside. Niall is laughing but stops abruptly when he sees Liam. Zayn narrows his eyes and both he and Niall stare up at Louis, questioning. Louis drops his arm from Liam’s shoulder and spins his hat around like nothing is out of the ordinary.

“Sorry, dudes – found this guy wandering around alone and took pity on him. Figured adding one more to the mix could make this party interesting, right?” Louis looks from Zayn to Niall and then back to Zayn, but his friends remain silent. They aren’t used to Louis inviting anyone along, much less someone who obviously belongs to a fraternity.

“He ran into me with his skateboard,” Liam counters. This makes Niall laugh, and the ice feels like it’s been broken a little. Louis skips over to sit on Niall’s lap and sends them both tumbling back onto the front lawn. He looks up at Zayn, who still looks skeptical as he grabs his skateboard and quickly stands up.

“Right, whatever. Took you long enough.” Zayn mumbles. He looks at Liam again and then turns around to address Niall and Louis. “Let’s go get hammered.”

Zayn heads toward the front door of the house, skateboard tucked under one arm. Niall looks at Louis, shrugs his shoulders, and raises one eyebrow. “You heard the man,” he orders, scrambling to his feet and walking quickly to catch up with Zayn. Louis decides not to read too much into it and stands up, brushing blades of grass off the skull that decorates his ratty t-shirt.

He turns to Liam and pulls at his shirt, leading him into the house. _Right_ , he thinks, _let’s go get hammered._

\-----------------------------------------

“Hullo, buttercup!” a deep voice booms as Louis walks through the front door with Liam in tow. He sees that Niall has been scooped up into the arms of a taller boy who appears to be nothing but long limbs and long, wet hair. Niall laughs as the boy spins him around and he pinches the boy lightly in the side when he is finally set back down. The taller boy shakes out his wet hair, like a dog, and Niall squeals as the droplets fall across his face and t-shirt.

“You fucker!” He cries out, pinching the boy again. His face is beaming. “Everyone, this is Harry, we’ve got a guitar class together. Harry, this is Zayn, Louis and… random frat dude.” Niall smiles pleasantly and waves towards his friends.

“Um, I’m Liam,” Liam stutters from the doorway. Louis still has Liam’s shirt balled up in his fist and he relaxes his grip when he realizes everyone is looking. He feels Liam’s hand touch his hip, ever so gently, and he blushes and stands aside so that Liam can properly enter the room to shake Harry’s hand. What a dork.

“Liam, random frat dude, pleased to meet you,” Harry smiles and gives a little courtesy, sending Niall into a fit of laughter once again. “Zayn and Louis, so good to meet you guys, Niall has told me a lot about you.”

So, a lot of new things happening tonight. Usually it’s just the three of them, skating around town or sharing a blunt and playing video games, and Louis feels himself bristle at the thought of Niall having some other cool friend that he hangs out with. A quick look in Zayn’s direction suggests that he feels the same way, his arms crossed in front of his chest and his chin set at a defiant angle. Louis looks at Niall to try and assess the situation, and when he sees the pleading look in his friend’s eyes, he remembers that he also brought someone along tonight. He’ll play nice, for once.

“I hope he hasn’t told you everything,” Louis replies, mirroring Zayn by crossing his arms over his chest. “Cause we have a lot of dirt on Niall, too. Don’t let that cheery disposition fool you, he’s not a natural blonde.” Niall blushes a deep red and puts a hand to his bleached hair, but Harry just laughs, laughs loudly and uninhibited, a bit like Niall usually does, and Louis can tell instantly why they get along. Plus, Harry is laughing at Louis’ jokes, so he obviously has good taste.

“Glad you guys could make it to our house party,” Harry laughs. “Especially you, sunflower.” He reaches out to rustle Niall’s hair, and Niall smiles up at him once again. “Come on, you guys look far too sober for a Friday night. I’ve got some lukewarm PBR out back – let’s see if we can’t get this party started with a round of shotgun.”

Louis loves this idea, absolutely LOVES drinking games and competition and pretty much anything involving cheap beer, and he decides that Harry is officially a good addition to the crew. He surges forward, collecting Liam under one arm and Zayn under the other, and follows Harry and Niall out into the backyard.

\----------------------------------

Sometimes frat guys come in handy. Like when you are trying to remember whether to poke a hole in the can or open the tab first when preparing to shotgun a beer. Liam gently takes the can from Louis’ hands and digs a hole into the white aluminum with the end of a key. He hands the beer back to Louis, catching his eye hesitantly, and nods his head. “Now, open the tab once you’re ready to chug the beer,” he instructs gently. This is not Louis’ first time shotgunning a beer – he _knows_ how to drink, for fuck’s sake – but Liam looks so happy to be useful that Louis decides to accept his help. He dips his head to lap at the beer that is escaping from the hole and catches Liam staring at him. Liam looks transfixed, intent, and for the first time Louis finds himself flushing under Liam’s gaze.

“Ok you fucks, on the count of three,” Niall yells, causing Liam and Louis to quickly break their eye contact. “One, two –“ and all of a sudden Niall is chugging his beer. Louis curses under his breath as he breaks open the tab and brings the beer can to his lips. He lifts his chin to get a better angle and chokes a little as the warm beer surges out of the hole and forces itself down his throat. His eyes water and he can’t breathe, but he is Louis Tomlinson, dammit, and he will not lose a drinking game. Draining the last bit of beer from the can, he throws it down on the ground and smashes it under his heel, laughing and hooting up into the night sky. Niall is bent over with laughter, pointing his finger at Harry, who is panting with one hand on his chest and his unfinished beer in the other. Harry coughs out loud, and his face is red but his eyes are bright. He doesn’t seem to mind having lost. Zayn has just finished his beer, which he quickly chucks at Niall.

“You asshole, you cheated!” Zayn accuses, but he looks happy and starry-eyed from the alcohol and oxygen deprivation.

“Yeah, but he still won.” Harry raises a hand and points to Liam, who is standing with his empty beer in his hand and a triumphant look on his face. Beer is dripping down his chin, wetting the collar of his jersey, and his lips are glistening and red from sucking on the wet can. Liam raises one arm and flexes his bicep in victory, earning him a laugh from Niall and Harry. He looks confident, strong. Reckless. Louis feels the sharp pull of arousal bloom inside him. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or the fact that he comes from a totally different world, but Liam looks sexy as fuck. And Louis wants to feel him.

“Yes, I love this song.” Harry says, interrupting his thoughts. Louis hears the music – the deep and steady rhythm of base and treble and sex, and even though he doesn’t recognize the song, he knows that he wants to be dancing to it with Liam.

“Let’s dance,” he calls out, to no one in particular. He surges forward and grabs Liam’s hand, dragging him inside to a sweaty, living room dance party where everyone is grinding to the dirty beat. Throwing both hands around Liam’s neck, Louis slots their legs together and rocks into him. Liam seems shocked as first, not really moving, but when Louis drags his fingers up Liam’s neck and toys at the back of his head, something seems to click and Liam pushes forward, holding Louis firmly by the hips and lifting him just enough so that they are fully pressed together at the waist. They grind together like this, Louis massaging circles into Liam’s shorn hair, feeling the sweat that’s accumulated there, and Liam drawing Louis closer, impossibly close. Louis can feel himself getting hard and doesn’t want it to stop, so he grinds up on Liam slowly and lets out a sound, like a purr. Liam responds, shifting Louis on his leg so that they can rub against each other, and Louis’ breath catches in his throat when he feels that Liam is hard as well.

Suddenly the music stops, and Louis moves slightly to distance himself, but Liam pulls him in again, breathing hard against Louis’ neck. The music begins anew, a slow beat with a surging treble line, and Louis runs his hands down Liam’s back to feel the muscles beneath his shirt. Fuck, he’s strong. Liam brings his hands up Louis’s sides, gently feeling the spaces in his ribs before finally running his hands over Louis’ shoulders and up his arms.

“How did you learn to dance like this?” Louis breathes, leaning in to gently pressing his lips to Liam’s neck. Liam tastes like sweat and smells like cologne.

Liam doesn’t respond, only moves his hands back down Louis sides and brings them to rest on the swell of his ass. He squeezes firmly, grinding down at the perfect moment and Louis feels his cock twitch against Liam’s leg as he lets out a quiet moan. Not to be outdone, he spins around, settling his ass into Liam’s crotch and arching his back to lean his head against Liam’s shoulder and grasp as his neck. He grinds up and Liam groans, breathing heavily against the shell of Louis’ ear. “God, Louis, fuck,” he moans, wrapping his hands around the front of Louis’ thighs and pulling him in closer. “You’re so hot, I can’t believe this is hap – FUCK,” he almost shouts as Louis swivels his hips in a filthy circle, rubbing up and down on Liam’s cock. Louis feels powerful, feels like he could do anything in this moment, and he wants to do it with Liam. Suddenly Liam’s hand is brushing over the front of Louis’ jeans, gently at first, then pressing, urgent. Louis closes his eyes as his vision blurs and arousal washes over his entire body.

“You’re perfect,” Liam sighs, lips grazing Louis’ ear. Then Liam is laughing, softly, and his next words are barely a whisper, almost like he is speaking to himself. “I just can’t believe someone like you would go for me.” His voice is breathy and choking but also incredibly honest. Suddenly Louis’ stomach drops and his mouth goes dry. He has to get out, get away. Louis breaks from Liam’s grip and begins to push his way through the crowd, heading for the exit. “Louis!” He hears Liam’s voice behind him, barely audible over the music. Liam is shouting, he is calling to Louis. Liam wants Louis to wait. But Louis needs to get out. He needs oxygen. He needs to run. He needs to skate. He needs to keep moving forward and never look back.

\------------------------------------------------

He settles for a dark corner of the yard, back against a tree trunk and ass against the cool, wet dirt.

Louis reaches into his pocket and pulls out plastic lighter and a pack of broken cigarettes. Fucking skinny jeans. He selects the cigarette that is most intact, carefully tearing off the broken end and placing the filter between his dry lips. He cups his hand around the cigarette and strikes the lighter, the little flame warming him as he breathes in deeply and enjoys the comforting nicotine rush. Louis leans his head back against the tree and blows smoke up into the night sky. He closes his eyes and tries to collect himself.

“Louis?” Someone asks behind him. Louis knows who it is, immediately recognizing Liam’s voice. Before it had been warm and questioning, then deep and desperate. Now it sounds unsure and a little afraid.

Louis scrambles to his feet and looks down at his shoes. They are covered in mud. He takes a quick puff off his cigarette and lifts his heads to look up at Liam. He does his best to look unaffected, giving Liam a closed mouth smile and nodding his head in greeting. It’s difficult in the darkness but Louis can see that Liam has lost his baseball cap. He looks smaller without it. Younger.

“Are you OK?” Liam asks, taking a tentative step closer to where Louis is standing against the tree. “Did I do something to upset you?”

Louis takes another drag of his cigarette and shrugs his shoulders. _Why did you call me perfect?_ He wonders, briefly. But he doesn’t say that to Liam.

“No dude, I’m good. It just got really claustrophobic in there, you know?” His voice is pinched and he breathes out the cigarette smoke as he speaks. “I needed some air.”

Liam takes another step forward, and he is close enough now that Louis can make out his features. His expression is pained, his thick brows knitted together and his mouth drawn into a slight frown. He raises his hand and hesitates for a moment before placing it gently on Louis’ shoulder. “I’m sorry,” Liam whispers.

Louis takes another drag off his cigarette and looks away. “It’s funny,” he begins, not really sure where he is going. “I never imagined I would ever talk to you. Or to anyone who wasn’t Niall or Zayn.” He looks back to Liam, face expressionless. “Did you know that I fucking hate frat guys?” The words are a challenge. Louis stares at Liam, trying to read him. The air between them is thick, neither moving for what feels like eternity.

Finally, Liam drops his hand from Louis shoulder. Louis feels a heavy sadness, but also a small rush of relief as the world makes sense again. Now Liam will leave and he can go look for Zayn and Niall and convince them to leave this stupid, fucking miserable excuse for a party and go smoke a bowl in the park. But Liam doesn’t leave. Instead he sighs heavily and moves closer to Louis, leaning his shoulder against the tree.

“Me too,” he sighs. “I fucking hate frat guys, too.” He is silent for a moment longer. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Louis doesn’t quite know how to react. Liam isn’t angry or offended or any of the things that Louis was expecting. Liam is still there. Suddenly Louis feels very small and vulnerable, and he hates that fucking feeling. He would rather be angry or funny or laughing or indignant because he is really good at being those things. And he is really out of practice with being open. But something about Liam makes him want to try. And so he does.

“My mom says I have this little place inside of me, like this little inner core that I don’t show to people.” Louis looks down at his cigarette and watches for a few moments as the dying ember slowly fades to grey. “She says I am wound too tightly. I mean, I feel like I’ve got things under control, but sometimes it feels like I have to work so hard to keep everything together, to be alright. She says that it’s OK to stumble and fall sometimes.” Louis looks down at his clothing, at his ratty shirt and torn jeans and muddy shoes. He feels like he is going to laugh, but the sound he makes is more like a quiet sob. “It doesn’t fucking matter what I wear or how I act, because none of this shit changes how I feel. Inside. Like, I try to be myself, but I also try so hard to not be myself, and in the end I just wish that people would like me, even if it’s just a version of me.” He doesn’t even know what he’s talking about anymore, so he stops talking. He feels Liam’s hand on his shoulder, warm and assuring.

“I know what you mean,” Liam says. “When I first got to college, I felt like I didn’t fit in anywhere. Some guys on my floor where rushing this frat, and I went with them to this event during rush week and it seemed alright. I just wanted to part of a group, I guess. I wanted people to like me.” He drops his hand from Louis’ shoulder. “When I said I hate frat guys, it’s true, but it’s also kind of ironic, ‘cause I’m also kind of saying that I hate myself.”

He is silent then, and Louis looks up at him. “Do you?” Louis asks, his voice barely a whisper.

Liam searches Louis’ face with his eyes and then smiles slightly. “Sometimes, yeah,” he responds. “I think everyone does, sometimes.”

Louis reaches for Liam and laces their fingers together. “I really liked dancing with you,” he ventures. “It felt really good.”

Liam smiles wide and they stay like that a moment, holding hands and leaning against the tree trunk. Then Liam slowly lifts his hand to touch Louis’ face. His eyes are warm and searching, and Louis feels his breath catch in his throat. He closes his eyes as Liam leans in, slowly, and places a soft kiss on his mouth.

_What if I fall?_

_Then you fucking fall. And you get back up._

Liam’s lips are full and dry. Louis can feel Liam’s breath against his face and he remains still, too stunned to move. Liam presses their lips together again and opens his mouth ever so slightly to suck at Louis’ bottom lip. He wraps his arm around Louis’ waist and draws him in gently, tilting his head to one side. A whimper escapes from Louis’ lips as he feels himself melting into Liam, bringing his hands up to cradle Liam’s face and pull him in closer. He licks tentatively into Liam’s mouth, finding his tongue and enjoying the first pangs of arousal as their kiss grows more passionate. Liam groans and spins Louis to pin him back against the tree, slotting their legs together and wrapping his fingers in Louis’ hair. Louis can feel himself getting hard and reaches his hands under Liam’s shirt to feel the warm skin of his back, following the lines of his ribs and then bringing his hands between them to rake his fingers through the soft hair on Liam’s chest. Liam’s breath hitches in his throat and he breaks away, looking at Louis with hooded eyes and slack mouth.

“Fuck, Louis,” he groans, biting his bottom lip as Louis grinds against him. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” Liam’s pupils are dilated and his voice is deep, hungry. “I can’t believe this is happening.” He shakes his head and lets out a weak laugh. Liam leans his forehead against Louis’ and runs his hands down Louis’ sides, bringing them up at last to cup Louis’ ass as he presses into him. “All those mornings, seeing you in the alley with your fucking dirty skater clothes and tattoos and ratty hair – “ he interrupts himself to bring Louis in for another deep kiss, pushing his tongue inside and massaging Louis’ ass with his hands before breaking away again – “I’ve thought about this so many times. I wanted you so badly.”

Louis feels like he is on fire, feels like the world is spinning around him and he is hurtling through space. He clings to Liam’s neck to steady himself. “Please,” he whines, pressing himself against Liam’s chest. He’s not sure what he wants, only that he and Liam are racing toward something and that he needs to get there, quickly. He rakes his hands down Liam’s arms, feeling the muscles tense under his touch, and moan’s loudly as Liam bends down to suck on his neck. “Please, I need you, I need you to touch me, Liam…” he trails off and leans his head back against the tree, gasping for air.

Liam understands his meaning, breaking his firm grip on Louis’ ass to reach forward and unbutton the fly of Louis’ pants. He dips his head and catches Louis’ eyes, searching. “Can I?” he asks, and Louis feels so overwhelmed, feels like he is broken open, and so he just nods his head vigorously and presses their mouths together again. Liam makes quick work of Louis’ fly, and Louis moans against Liam’s mouth when he feels a warm hand around the head of his cock. Liam keeps an arm around Louis, pinning him back against the tree with his body and working his cock in awkward, quick motions. It’s over almost as quickly as it started, Liam catching Louis’ cries in his mouth and holding him tightly through the rattles of his orgasm.

When Louis finally comes to, finally feels like he has returned to his body, Liam is still holding him against the tree with his hand down Louis’ pants. Louis slumps into Liam’s shoulder, relaxing his entire body, and allows himself to enjoy their awkward embrace. Then he begins to laugh, softly, and he can hear a rumble in Liam’s chest as he joins in. They stand like that for a while, holding each other and laughing, until finally Liam removes his hand from Louis’ pants and kisses Louis twice, once on each eyebrow.

“Sorry about your hand,” Louis giggles. He is sure he is blushing, and everything seems quit unreal. Liam looks down at his fist, which both he and Louis know is full of cum, and shrugs his shoulders.

“You know what they say; you’re not a real frat guy until you’ve walked around a house party with a fistful of cum.” Liam grins and then blushes, looking suddenly scandalized by his own joke.

“Liam, you made a funny! And it didn’t suck!” Louis laughs, feigning shock and lifting his leg to playfully kick at Liam’s shin. Liam dodges Louis’ foot and then suddenly he is pressed against Louis again, kissing him deeply. Louis smiles into the kiss and lifts himself up onto tiptoes to wrap his arms around Liam's neck. Then Liam pulls away, slightly, and kisses Louis on the cheek.

“I’m going to look for a bathroom,” he raises an eyebrow and nods down toward his closed hand. “I’ll come find you in a bit.” Liam kisses Louis once more, lightly this time, then moves away and heads toward the house.

Louis stays leaning against the tree, feeling spent and a little cold and very, very happy.

\------------------------------------------------

“Christ, he lives!” Niall exclaims as Louis approaches the fire ring. He is seated on a log with a guitar in his lap, and raises his hands towards the sky in mock praise. Harry reaches up to claim the joint that is resting between Niall’s fingers and acknowledges Louis with an easy smile.

“No need for the formalities, Niall,” Louis responds, sitting on a bench next to Zayn. “I’ve told you many times that my friends call me Jesus.” He smiles, pleased with himself, and then settles back onto the bench. Fuck, this has been an insane night.

Harry takes a quick hit off the joint and passes it along to Zayn, and he and Niall return to their impromptu guitar lesson. Louis suddenly feels very aware that Zayn has not greeted him, that they have not actually spoken since they entered the house party, and he turns to punch his friend lightly on the arm.

“What’s up, man?” Louis asks, studying Zayn’s face in the firelight. “Are you enjoying the party?”

Zayn takes a hit of the joint and holds his breath, staring into the fire before slowly exhaling. He turns to look at Louis and shrugs his shoulders, giving him a half smile. “Sure,” he responds, voice light and casual, “why wouldn’t I be?”

Louis can’t keep from rolling his eyes and he knows that Zayn can see it. This happens to them every time there is shit to talk about. One of them reaches out, and the other pulls away. Usually it’s Louis who does the “away” part.

“Don’t fucking “fine” me, Malik,” Louis sighs. “You haven’t said a word to me all night. And you were a total dick when I got here.” Zayn scoffs under his breath and takes another quick hit before passing the joint to Louis. He stares into the fire and shakes his head.

“Whatever, dude, you didn’t seem too interested in talking to me. You and Niall seem plenty entertained.” Zayn gives a short, forced laugh and gestures to Niall and Harry, who are engrossed in their guitar lesson. “But it’s all good. I mean, everybody can make new friends, right?”

Zayn doesn’t elaborate, but Louis knows what he is trying to say. It has always been the three of them, ever since freshman year, and fuck everybody else. And before he had joined the crew it had just been Niall and Zayn, and Louis feels like maybe he has betrayed them in some way. Unsure of what to do, he takes a hit off the joint and coughs, loudly. God, he really needs to stop fucking smoking so much. Zayn claps him on the back and laughs softly, a real laugh this time, and Louis turns to look at him, hopeful.

“Tommo, you are a real fuck up, you know that?” Zayn laughs, a fond look spreading across his face. “You suck at smoking weed almost as much as you suck at skateboarding.” Louis grunts his disapproval and punches Zayn in the arm again, this time harder, and Zayn moves back a bit with the punch and laughs even louder. Suddenly Louis is joining him, and they are both laughing together, a deep, pit of the stomach laugh that causes Louis’ eyes to water.

Zayn wraps his arm around Louis and squeezes his shoulder. He shakes his head, then turns to look at Louis with a crooked smile. “But we are all kind of fuck ups. You, me, Niall, even that Harry kid.” He turns to look across the fire at Harry, who is struggling to press his fingers to the guitar fret while simultaneously trying to blow hair out of his face. “Well, especially that Harry kid.” They burst into laughter again, Louis laughing even louder when Zayn actually slaps his knee like an idiot, and lean into each other.

“Zayn, you are my best friend.” Louis says without hesitation, and maybe he is just delirious at this point but he doesn’t give a fuck. He links his arm with Zayn and pulls him close. “I love you guys.”

Zayn turns to Louis and smiles softly. “Tommo, you’re my best friend, too. Even though you suck.” He unwinds his arm and pulls Louis into his side. “And I guess that random frat guy can hang out, too. He also seems like a fuck up, should fit right in.”

Louis leans his head against Zayn’s shoulder and thinks, not for the first time, that he has the best friends in the world. He really hates all the mushy shit, would rather fight or skate or get stoned or have a laugh. But every once and a while, it’s really nice to know that people care about him. And that he is capable of caring as well.

“Speak of the devil,” Zayn whistles under his breath as Liam approaches the fire ring. Louis raises his head and takes in the sight of Liam bathed in firelight. His jersey is disheveled and his red high tops are untied, the laces caked in mud. Liam smiles shyly and runs a hand over his shaved hair, catching Louis’ gaze and holding him there. Louis thinks that Liam may be the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

He looks around the circle at his friends – Niall leaning forward to help Harry place his fingers in the correct formation on the guitar, Harry furrowing his brows and biting his lip in utter concentration. The light from the fire catching the angles of Zayn’s face and making him look like he is glowing from within. He thinks about what Liam said when they were dancing, about Louis being perfect. Louis has never felt perfect, actually feels far from it, but right now he does feel rather happy. He and his motley crew may be fuck ups, may be scumbags, but at least they can be scumbags together. It’s a lot easier to fall when you know that someone will be there to help you pick yourself back up.

Suddenly Harry is laughing, cursing at Niall and shaking his head as he sets the guitar to one side. He stands up and extends his arms above his head. “Fuck, I feel alive!” He calls out, fluttering his hands above his head in a perfect imitation of jazz hands. “Who wants to shotgun another beer?”

Louis couldn’t want anything more.


End file.
